


Marble heads and silk roses

by Ponddipper



Category: The Grand Tour (TV) RPF, Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, JamJez, M/M, MayClark, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29112702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ponddipper/pseuds/Ponddipper
Summary: James turned the severed head over in his hand and smiled
Relationships: Jeremy Clarkson/James May
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	Marble heads and silk roses

**Author's Note:**

> So, this idea came to me a couple of days ago. I wrote a quick draft, thinking it'd take me ages to tweak and fiddle with it. Then this afternoon I sat down to type it up and thought, hey I'm pretty pleased with this. Let;s post it.
> 
> I only have the specials DVD at the moment, and what remember from watching the show in the past, so apologies if I've made an error.
> 
> Please do leave a comment to let me know if you agree, or if you think I'd've been better to work on it some more.
> 
> Enjoy  
> Pdx

‘Hey, Uncle James? What’s this?’

James looked up from the pile of tax returns he was sorting as part of his home office reorganisation, to see Katya clutching a rather tatty old shoebox from the back of the cupboard by the window.

‘Hmm, not sure.’

He rose on creaking knees and stumbled over, flopping into his desk chair, and relieving the young woman of the box. It looked a bit battered but the shoes it once held were long gone now.

As soon as he lifted the lid, however, he felt his heart give a tight squeeze. .

‘Oh my God!’ He whispered. ‘I thought I’d lost these.’

‘What are they?’ Katya asked, settling on her knees at his side, like a child indulging an ancient relative, and peering into the box. ‘Looks like a load of old junk.’

James shook his head with a sigh

‘Not junk my dear. Memories. This,‘ He held up a bottle cork between thumb and forefinger. ‘This was from the bottle of wine we had on our way to the North Pole.’

James remembered that night in the tent, the child-like squeal from Jez as he handed him the bottle of crisp white. 

‘It’d been a really crap day, making little progress and it was _so_ cold. It was supposed to be a gag, a hamper of poncy food for two inept explorers but when he saw that wine, ‘ James sighed, ‘ God, he hugged it like a fourth child. I really thought he was gonna cry.’ 

Katya laughed, a softer version of her father’s warm chuckle and James felt another pang in his chest.

‘What else is in there then?’ She said, leaning forward to look in the box again.

James reached in and pulled out a lump of marble about the size of a walnut.

‘Did you ever hear the story of Darcy Bussell?’

Katya shook her head and sat back on her haunches; head cocked to one side in eager anticipation.

‘She came all the way from Vietnam, a present from your Dad and Uncle Richard when we did a special out there years ago,’

James turned the severed head over in his hand and smiled, thinking back to that epic journey of teeming rain and spectacular countryside. He’d been so sure the Honda Cub was the right bike, but it was underpowered on the hills and interminably slow, not really built for the length of journey they had to undertake.

‘They thought it’d be hilarious to buy me a marble statue to go on the back of my bike. So, they went to this warehouse place to find one and your Dad picked out Darcy.’

James had been surprised at that. Jeremy actually thinking about it and picking something to suit James’ tastes.

‘I don’t think anyone really believed me when I said I actually liked it. I did my best to preserve her in one piece, even asking the crew to carry her in the support truck but they refused. Andy reckoned it was to preserve continuity, but I think he was just pissed at us because of the stupid gift buying’.

James hadn’t been responsible for the pottery dog, or the Galleon at least, but he _might_ have had a hand in the selection of the plastic chair.

‘So, how did she lose her head then?’ Katya asked, picking up the marble head again for a closer look.

‘Jez decapitated her when he knocked my bike over getting his Vespa off the train. She was already in a few bits by then and we’d run out of tape to hold her together. He thought it was funny.’

It hadn’t been funny trying to swim across Ha Long Bay clutching a lump of carved marble because the crew still refused to help him out, but James had managed. Somehow.

‘Ooh, flowers.’

Katya plucked another treasure from the box and held it up, twirling the tatty yellow silk rose, barely a flowerhead now, between her fingers.

‘Let me guess, the Middle East, right? Dad bought them as a gag and you thought they’d look good on the dash, brighten it up a bit.’

James nodded with a smile, and took the flower from her hand, glad someone paid attention to the Audio Commentary on their DVDs.

‘Was that before or after you tried to do brain surgery on yourself with a rock?’

‘Before.’ He laughed. ‘I got real ones afterwards.’ 

James tried not to blush with the memory of Jeremy Clarkson walking into his hospital room half-hidden behind a massive multi-coloured bouquet of Roses, Ferns, Chrysanthemums and more. ‘Daft pillock must’ve bought up half the florists.’ He sighed. ‘Still, the nurses appreciated them when we left.’

‘And this?’ Katya asked, reaching into the box once more.

Over the next half hour or so James recounted the stories behind each of the treasures in the box, little souvenirs he’d collected over the years of travelling the world and driving cars: the tiny tool kit Jeremy found in a Bolivian Petrol station to add to James’ belt of many things, the Japanese rail ticket from their GT-R vs Public Transport race where James had very nearly run on Television, the Keyring of the ill-fated Dacia Sandero from Romania and even the plastic toy train Jeremy bought him as a prize for winning the race against the Flying Scotsman. Each little trinket bringing forth memories of laughter and camaraderie, of boy’s own adventures made real, of happy times with his best mates.

But then he came across a complementary pen from a hotel in Yorkshire, and the smiles vanished into a choking vice of despair. Like a tarmac road ending suddenly at the edge of a cliff.

‘It wasn’t your fault, Uncle James.’ Katya said, one hand squeezing his knee. ‘You couldn’t have known what he’d do.’

Too perceptive by half that girl.

James looked up at her, his eyes prickling with unshed tears. Even now, after all these years, it still hurt to be reminded of that day. Of how he missed the signs, missed his chance to act and allowed everything to go to shit.

‘I _should_ have known, Kat. I _should_ have seen. I knew something wasn’t right, but I let myself be fobbed off, let him convince me everything was fine when it wasn’t. If I’d insisted he talk to me, stepped in first instead of letting him go …’

‘Hey now, no!’ Katya leant forward to pull him into a hug, dipping her head to look him in the eye when he hung his own head low.. ‘Nobody knew what was going on inside Dad’s head that day. Probably not even Dad himself. He was a master of bottling everything up, trying to ignore his problems in the hope they’d go away. There was no way of knowing what was going to happen and you mustn’t blame yourself for it. Nobody else does.’

Her blue-grey eyes were so like her father’s that James felt his control starting to slip. He didn’t deserve to have such a wonderful, forgiving person in his life as Katya Clarkson, the sweet, generous girl who was as close to him as a real daughter might be.

‘What’re you two up to then?’

The looming figure of Jeremy himself broke the emotional moment and both he and Katya pulled away to grin up at the man bearing mugs of tea.

‘Oh, you know, the imminent takeover of Great Britain followed by the world. Usual stuff.’ James shrugged, putting everything back in the box as Jeremy placed his Mr Slow mug on a coaster on the desk.

‘Oooh. Can I help?’

‘Sorry, Clarkson. No apes allowed. You’ll have to find your own entertainment reviewing stairlifts and mobility scooters I’m afraid.’

Jeremy flopped down into his own chair, his smile reflecting back all the love James felt towards his husband.

‘Is that Darcy’s head?’ Jeremy reached out to pluck the lump of stone from the top of the box and examine it. ‘I always wondered what happened to that.’ 

The marble statue had survived the journey home, encased in James’ dirty laundry, and now lived in the hall by the front door. She had taken more than one tumble over the years, surviving not only attacks by cat, umbrella-wielding Hammonds and over-enthusiastic husbands, but also Jeremy’s attempts to be useful with a vacuum cleaner.

‘Kat found a box of old bits and bobs from the TG days.’

‘Yeah, and Uncle James has been telling me all about how you wooed him with silk flowers and tiny tool kits. Not to mention Viagra and pottery dogs.’

James knew it was all said in jest. Neither he nor Jeremy had done anything about their feelings for each other until well after his divorce came through. In fact, it had been the meddling Clarkson kids’ machinations that had finally brought the two middle-aged morons together.

Jeremy leaned over to take the box, gently picking his way through the contents.

‘I can’t believe you kept all this.’ Jeremy said, leaning over to sift through the box, holding up the ticket stubs for the concert they’d gone to as their first date. ‘May, you are a sappy old man.’

James’ tummy grew warm at the fondness in his tone, even after all these years still amazed at seeing Jeremy’s more emotional side.

‘Says the man who proposed to me via his column in the Times. You have very little room to talk you lovestruck old fool.’

James leant in to drop a soft kiss to his husband’s lips, but Jeremy turned his head to deepen the contact.

‘AHEM!’

The pair pulled apart, turning equally sheepish grins to the third wheel in the room, James certain neither of them really sincere in their apology.

‘As sweet as this is, we do still need to finish this cupboard by tonight.’ Katya sighed, gesturing to the piles of papers and boxes scattered around the room.

Strangely enough, at the mention of physical work, Jeremy soon found something else he needed to do.


End file.
